Almack’s correspondent Danielle Reicherter was luckier than I to be in NYC when the Long Blondes played NYC. Below is her coverage of the show and photos of the most beautiful girls in indie:

“Zis map iz so small, I can’t figure it owt!” The German man to my right looked at me for help, but unfortunately I wasn’t of much assistance. A Philly girl such as myself should be used to deciphering subway systems, but I was having trouble figuring where I needed to switch from the J Train to the line I needed.

The two of us were staring at the color coded Jackson Pollack-esque guide on the station wall when my fellow confused traveler, whose name I unfortunately did not catch, asked me what I thought of the concert. I had not realized he just left the Bowery Ballroom show as well, so we talked all things Long Blondes while waiting for a knowledgeable local to come along and save us.

‘Gunter’ (let’s call him that, I feel bad writing about him without a proper moniker) came across a poster depicting the band earlier that day and decided to see them on a whim since he liked their mod style. That night, lead singer Kate Jackson (not the Charlies Angel, though she was doing some impressive moves in four inch heels) opted for a more rockabilly look, wearing a ruffled checker blouse, denim short shorts, and seamed stockings. “She iz beautiful, like ze lady from Ze Pretenders!” Gunter exclaimed.

Comparisons to Siouxie Sioux and Chrissie Hynde tend to follow whenever the Long Blondes frontwoman is mentioned, but while it’s clear they’re influences, Jackson has her own brand of stage presence. ‘Another Weekend Without Makeup’ was a mix of flirtatious dancing and striking poses, while the short, almost riot grrrl ‘Separated by Motorways’ gave way to Jackson flailing exuberantly and stealing drummer Screech Louder’s job temporarily by beating away at a snare. Kate Jackson has no shtick or signature move, which in a world of back-up dancers and one-handed cartwheels (I’m looking at you, Fergie), is unique in itself.

I had not yet heard any tracks from their latest album and was a bit worried when the disco ball was set a spinnin’. Pleasantly surprised, the following song ‘Century,’ was ‘70s groovy, though in a non-tacky way thanks to echoy vocals, spacey keyboard effects and a time traveling Smiths-worthy guitar part.

Bassist Reenie Delaney stared the audience down, keeping an air of mystery with the occasional mischievous half smile as she strummed and Screech played marvelously, though I found myself distracted by the fact that he does slightly resemble a collegiate version of a certain ‘Saved by the Bell’ character. With the push of a button, Kate Jackson started a loop of sampled snippets from old movies then burst into ‘Guilt,’ the crowd unsure how to dance and moshing awkwardly. Dorian Cox and Emma Chaplin, who switch off playing keyboard and guitar every few songs, smirked at us two-left-footed Yanks. Cox ate a banana between songs, perhaps alluding to the iconic Velvet Underground fruit he bore a sticker of on his guitar, then threw the peel into the audience.

Only one encore was played, and I was slightly disappointed it wasn’t ‘Appropriation,’ the song that made me a fan after a friend from Scotland insisted I listen. The post concert shuffle to get out ensued, I avoided the rain since I stupidly forgot an umbrella, and then we’re back to where my story began. While I was trying to figure out the chances that I’d hail the Cash Cab, a man came along and used his secret New Yorker decoder ring or whatever to give us each directions. I bid ‘Gunter’ auf Wiedersehen and soon after caught the correct train, where I sat next to some very amusing graffiti. And now as I finish writing this, I can tell that I’m probably going to receive several idiot-proof NYC subway maps from my friends and family. Oh joy.

Photos:

Kate Jackson:

Reenie Delaney:

Dorian Cox:

Screech Louder:

Kate Jackson:

Kate again:

Reenie Delaney again:

Set list:

Tags: Bowery Ballroom, danielle reicherter, long blondes

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